


Thicker Than

by kathryne



Series: An ordinary hand [1]
Category: Grace and Frankie (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Family Drama, Post-Season/Series 04, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13539153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathryne/pseuds/kathryne
Summary: In the aftermath of s4, Frankie has to make some decisions about her priorities as she and Grace try to rebuild their lives.The first in a series of post-s4 ficlets from tumblr prompts about Grace and Frankie cuddling.





	Thicker Than

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chainofclovers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chainofclovers/gifts).



> I asked for prompts from a tumblr list about cuddling, and chainofclovers said 'a little pain is good' and prompted 'while somebody is crying.'

Grace comes into the house with a sense of trepidation, as usual. They've been at Teddie's for several days now, but she still feels like she's trespassing, an unwelcome interloper in the already-strained relationship between the two sisters. She does her best to stay out of the way, keeping Vybrant confined to their bedroom even though packaging on the bed is a challenge, cleaning up after Frankie like she refused to do at home. 

Home. 

The word hurts, and she remembers all the things they still have to sort out, fights they've had and fights yet to come with the kids, none of whom are taking this at all gracefully. But Teddie's is only a temporary oasis, would be even if she and Frankie were close, and so the fights need to be fought. 

Grace still isn't sure how Frankie convinced Teddie to offer them a place to crash. All she knows is the closed expression on Frankie's face as she'd turned away with the phone, that and the unusual note of pleading she couldn't help overhearing: "Teddie, I'm sorry. I can't ask anyone else." And then, after a long moment of strained silence as she listened to the phone, in a hard voice Grace had never heard before: "No, Theodora. Not this time I'm not. This time I'm staying."

Whatever she meant, it worked; Frankie closed the phone with a snap and turned back. Grace didn't even try to pretend she wasn't listening. All Frankie said was "We're good to go," though, and she looked... for the first time since her stroke, Grace thought unwillingly, she looked old. Grace couldn't bring herself to press. 

"Okay," she said quietly, and then, as Frankie sagged onto the motel bed next to her, "Thank you, Frankie." She touched Frankie's shoulder, rubbing it a little, feeling all the tension coiled there and getting worse by the day. 

"Thank me later," Frankie said with a spark of her usual self. "I told you Teddie thinks you're a drug addict, didn't I?"

Grace laughed. "Yeah. Thanks for that, too." She hoisted herself off the bed, wobbling as she caught her balance. "Hey, some of those pain pills have a pretty good street value, you know. If things don't work out with Teddie, you might be thankful I've got them." She was joking – of course – but Frankie looked so sad that she didn't dare follow up. Instead she let the statement lie flat in the stale air of the motel room as she limped to the desk to make another list. 

And now, here they are, and if Teddie's house isn't quite big enough for the three of them, well, they're managing. Just.

Teddie's nothing like Grace expected. Caustic and sharp-tongued, she's nothing like Frankie, either, except about the eyes and, oddly, in the shape of her hands, which felt familiar from the first time Grace took one in greeting. She is, perhaps, more like Grace, a thought Grace tries not to think as she watches Frankie visibly brace herself before breakfast each morning.

But Teddie's car isn't in the garage – she has her late day on campus, Grace remembers – and the house is theirs for the rest of the afternoon. She drops her keys on the side table and takes a breath, half-expecting Frankie to pop up to meet her. Instead, she hears a noise. It sounds like it's coming from their bedroom. It sounds like... Frankie's crying?

Grace doesn't run through the house. Her knee's not up to it. But she hurries as best she can. When she gets to their room, she catches herself on the doorjamb. Frankie is lying on their bed, curled on her side. She's sniffling like she's coming down from a true weeping fit. 

"Frankie," Grace exclaims. She sits down on the end of the bed and puts her hand on Frankie's ankle, unsure whether she'll be welcome. "Honey, what's wrong?"

"Grace?" Frankie gulps, scrubbing a hand over her face. "I – I was talking to Teddie – "

That's enough to set her sobbing again. Grace throws caution to the winds and clambers onto the bed, curling behind Frankie and pulling her close. "It's okay," she whispers. "Tell me."

Frankie takes Grace's hand and clutches it against her sternum. She's shaking. Her fingers are clammy. 

"She wanted to see photos of Faith," Frankie gets out. "She's never even met Bud, and – what if she never does? What if she never meets Faith, because Bud doesn't trust me with her any more?"

"Oh, sweetheart." Grace gets a little choked up herself at the thought of Frankie separated forever from the granddaughter she loves so much. "He wouldn't do a thing like that." The words ring hollow: not long ago she might've sworn just as fervently that none of the kids would put them in a home. 

"You don't know that! I don't either! I might never – " Frankie can't even finish her sentence. She's crying too hard. 

Grace holds her more firmly. This whole fucked-up situation has been hard on both of them. But Frankie... Grace doesn't want to admit it, but Frankie might have more to lose.

"Do you..." she starts, then has to stop and clear her throat. She's shaking now too. "Do you want to change your mind, Frankie?" They could go back. Give in. Tell the kids they were wrong.

Beg.

"No!" Frankie rolls over at that. Her eyes are swollen and her nose is red, but she meets Grace's gaze with certainty. "What kinda role model would I be for Faith then, huh? If I – if I just give up? No," she repeats, letting her head drop against Grace's shoulder. 

"It's worth it," she says, voice muffled now. "It just... it's so damn hard." 

Grace can't do anything but hold her. So she does. "Yeah," she says softly. "It is." She doesn't clarify what she means. And Frankie, face damp against Grace's skin, doesn't ask. But holding Frankie, Grace thinks: worth it? She tightens her grip. Worth anything.


End file.
